[crow]

“Charlie Bishop,” the principal said. The door swung open to reveal him sitting behind his desk. The other teachers would have been scowling or rolling their eyes, doing their best to show her just how fed up they were with her, but the principal only ever looked tired, and occasionally a little sad. It was probably why she felt a stab of guilt go through her, despite herself, every time she laid eyes on him. Still, she would not allow herself to walk in with her head bowed. Instead, she entered with her chin high and her expression resolute. As if you were a queen, darling, her mother had told her when she was a little girl. She felt more like a stray cat than a queen these days, dressed in tatty jeans and an old, worn hoodie. Some kids chose the style as a fashion statement, buying their clothes pre-ripped, and assumed that Charlie did the same, but the truth of it was that this was just what happened when you didn't have the kind of money to go shopping on a regular basis. As if she could afford to have her clothes already threadbare when she bought them.

[crow]

“We both know why you're here,” the principal said. He was an old man, and when Charlie had first met him, she figured he was there by virtue of seniority alone, and had attempted to pull a fast one on him as a result. She knew better now. He looked his age, if not older--- his cheeks sagged, and his face sported deep laugh lines that harkened back to a happier, more jovial youth. His hands, clasped in front of him, were gnarled, their joints swollen. However, his back was still ram-rod straight, and there was a sharp glint in his drooping eyes. He turned those eyes on her now, and Charlie met his gaze evenly, though it took all her self-control not to look away for as long as she did.

[crow]

“I punched a guy,” she said, raising a brow. The principal said nothing for a moment, then sighed--- he had broken eye contact first, which was a small win for Charlie. It was a victory she hadn't expected to take. If it had been one of the other teachers sitting across from her--- say, Ms Shields, or the Toad--- she might have actually felt as if that was something to be proud of. As it was, she just felt tense. She was waiting for something, anything. The principal was the one adult in the school she couldn't read, and that kept her on edge whenever they had one of their little talks.

[crow]

“Must we always be doing this, Charlie?” the principal asked. He sounded almost plaintive. That was what she hated most about their talks, even more than the feel of dread as she tried to guess what was coming. When he sounded like that, it never felt faked. If she didn't know better, she might have believed that he was genuinely concerned about her. But she wasn't that naive anymore. He was just a shrewd opponent, and a better actor than the rest. After all, what kind of game would it be if there was anyone but herself on her own side? She shrugged her shoulders, leaned back in the chair, and put her feet up on his desk with slow and measured deliberateness. He watched her every move without comment, merely closing his eyes as her feet landed on the wooden surface, thunk thunk.

[crow]

“You know the deal, boss-man. I start shit, I get my ass hauled down here, you read the St. Atherton Bible at me, and we pretend like that makes me a good girl again. Then we part ways, having reaffirmed our lovely little friendship, and wait for Friday to roll around. Is it Friday? I try to time these things, but life gets in the way. You understand.” Throughout her little speech, she made sure to keep looking at him, her expression indolent despite the tension in her shoulders, rambling in her most mellow drawl. St Atherton wasn't a religious school, so there wasn't really a bible, but the school's code of conduct had been made back in its early days as a prestigious boarding school, and was nearly thick enough to qualify as one as a result. Charlie liked to look at it sometimes, if only for a good laugh.

[crow]

How the mighty have fallen. These days, the school's attendees were mostly dead-end delinquents whose parents could afford to put them here, as a last resort. They hadn't had more than a handful of students who actually went on to do anything good in a decade, at least. Its reputation mostly revolved around its willingness to keep anyone, as long as the fees were paid on time.

What Charlie was doing here, she didn't know. The uniform was the only whole set of clothes she owned, and she made a point in never wearing it anyway.

[crow]

The principal said, “My, you don't waste time, do you?” She couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic, but it got a smirk out of her.

“You know me,” she said.

“Yes,” he replied. “I'm afraid I do. Now, we could skip the 'bible'--- I'm sure I've read it enough times for us both to know the contents by heart. Still, I will have to do something.” He tapped her shoes with his pen. “I don't suppose you have any suggestions?” He raised a brow at her, and she thought he might have been smiling beneath his beard.

[crow]

“Let me off the hook early. That'll throw 'em for a loop,” Charlie said. She barely had to think about it. Hey, it wasn't likely, but there was always a chance that she could win out on bravado alone. Unfortunately, the principal only tutted and shook his head. Well, she hadn't really been hoping for it anyway.

“I'm afraid I can't do that,” he said. “But perhaps you could... regale me with the tale of how you happened to 'punch a guy'.” Okay, he was definitely smiling, which made Charlie more uneasy than ever. It wasn't that the expression looked intimidating in and of itself. He was an old man. What was he going to do? But why, of all things, had he asked for her to tell him a story?

[crow]

Charlie nearly laughed then. It was so absurd. Sometimes the principal deviated from their regular script, which told her that he was getting just about as bored with her visits as she was, but this one was new. Spin him a tale, eh? He would have heard about it from his snub-nosed supervisor and the more affronted teachers already, so she wondered that he would want to hear her tell it again. Though there was something to be said for a difference of perspective. And hey, if he really was bored, maybe he was bored enough to listen to her side of things and not immediately dismiss her as a lying brat.

... Yeah, right. He ran this school, for goodness sakes. If she were in his shoes, she wouldn't have listened to herself either.

[crow]

“Well, alright,” she said. She was aware that she was still getting off easy, which unsettled her more than anything. It was no good to get used to kindness from the school authorities, but if she could enjoy herself in detention, she might as well go for it. She just hoped it didn't come to bite her in the ass later. Her lucky breaks had a sad tendency to turn out to be false starts or misfortunes in a shiny disguise. Just like she didn't trust adults, she didn't trust luck. If she got to rely on something as flimsy as that, someday she'd find herself at rock bottom, only this time without the ability to claw her way back up.

[crow]

By the time she got out, it was nearly five in the afternoon, but that was still earlier than usual. She ought to have felt guiltier about it, knowing that Elliot had been at home by himself all this time, but he knew the drill. She almost always got detentions on Fridays. Contrary to what the teachers thought, it wasn't because she wanted to piss them off by scheduling her trouble-making. She just held it in until then, and kept her sessions as regular as she could so Elliot wouldn't have to deal with one more disruption in his own schedule. Predictability was one of his few comforts in life, and she wasn't going to deprive him of that if she could help it.

[crow]

Of course, there was an alternative: she could have stopped getting into trouble. But the school was chocked full of delinquents and ne'er-do-wells, and they were all there for a reason. Staying out of trouble there would have been a tough job even if she were naturally inclined to it, which she wasn't. Even holding herself back until Friday was a strain sometimes, and over the years a lot of the kids who had pissed her off learned to be conspicuously absent on that particular day of the week. Just one of the downsides of being regular like she was. She could get her satisfaction in other ways, but there was no real substitute for a good ol' fight.

[crow]

She kicked a rock down the sidewalk as she made her way home. Fall was beginning to give way to winter, in the blustery clouded way that served as a prelude to first snow. The trees were already bare, and most of their leaves had either been swept up or had gone brown where they fell. The whole world seemed to be either dead or holding its breath, but the air wasn't charged. It was just cold, and the wind was bitter. Charlie felt its fangs through all three sweaters, and wished not for the first time that her clothes didn't have so many holes. Nothing she could do about that though. If there were, she would've done it already, wouldn't she?

[crow]

Then again, maybe not. If she had the money for new clothes, she'd rather give Elliot a new coat, or maybe buy him a sketchbook. He was always blowing through those. She could live with sweaters with holes.

As she rounded a corner, she caught the sound of music. The sound of an electric guitar was unmistakable, and a moment later, a slightly husky voice joined it. Intrigued despite herself, she quickened her pace. He was pretty good, whoever he was. Maybe it was an old rocker, someone famous who had retired and only did street gigs anymore as a way to flip off the man.

[crow]

... Or it could be a tall, unkempt young man. Probably homeless, Charlie concluded as she looked him over. He was tall, to be sure, but he was also lanky and skinny as a pole. He danced a little as he played, lurching like an unsteady scarecrow buffeted this way and that by the wind, leaning over precariously as he played an especially intense part of the song. She couldn't tell if it was intentional, or if that was just the way he was. His clothes were only a little less ratty than her own. She didn't know how to feel about that. At least she had a roof over her head, but she still dressed worse. What a funny world this was.